


A Partridge in a Pear Tree

by lindsey_grissom



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-14
Updated: 2009-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:58:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_grissom/pseuds/lindsey_grissom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura dreams and learns a little something about the spirit of Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Partridge in a Pear Tree

She holds the box in front of her; hands outstretched as the words reverberate around her mind. Words that make so little sense, even less now since she woke alone on her cot the box at her feet.

The bright red paper around it shines in the lights of the ship, the stars outside the view screens reflecting and making it glitter. She knows she should have left it where she found it. Knows that procedure demands she run out of her room as soon as she noticed it and alert every member of her guard when she can. But she heard the words in a dream _{vision}_ and this seems so far outside of procedure that she's trusting her instincts. Instincts that are currently pushing her to put the box to her ear and give it a shake.

Fortunately, she has more sense than to follow that particular impulse. She can almost hear Bill's sneer in her head, at least she's thinking _now_. Still, she can't seem to put the box down. Can't make herself contact anyone. If this is some new Cylon trick then it's a powerful one because even knowing it could be her downfall she can't let go. And how pathetic, to be brought low by a box. Better, though, than the cancer inside her.

She stops, staring out at the stars and ships that surround her. The last of their civilisation stranded in tin cans, looking for a planet she still only half believes in. Guided by a dying woman who dreams in riddles and can't escape the thrall of something so unknown. Nothing is as it should be, she knows. Robots that look human, planets blown to dust without so much as a warning and a frightened race on the brink of extinction. Somehow, a suddenly appearing box and a dream of deer and snow and a man in red isn't all that unbelievable anymore.

In the corridors she can hear the first sounds of movement as the ship wakes up around her. She keeps her eyes on Galactica, her gaze fixed where she knows Bill will currently be.

She takes a breath, the barest hint of pain at the movement making her grin sadly. The draw of the box becomes almost overwhelming and finally she pulls the bow apart, tucking the green ribbon into the pocket of her gown. The paper seperates with ease and she takes her time, careful not to tear it as she folds it and places it on the shelf above the cot. The box is blue and ribbed, and as she lifts the lid she notices a gold line running below break. Inside, on a pillow of blue fabric lays a small silver broach. Her breath catches as the light touches it, the collection of colours fairly glowing.

With gentle fingers she lifts it from the box, thumb rubbing softly across the intricate design. She doesn't recognise the bird depicted, nor the significance of its positioning in the tree. She sees only the beauty of it; the yellow-green of the strange fruit, the emerald of the branches, the silver of the bird's wings. She allows a smile to spread across her lips as she places the broach back into the box. She can't know for sure, it's impossible and yet she does; she _knows_ this isn't a trick or the latest Cylon plan. She can feel in her still beating heart that all this is, is a gift.

She dresses in her favourite suit, the broach pinned to her lapel, just above her heart and leaves to face the day. In her mind the words of her dream keep echoing and she only smiles wider, her spirit uncommonly lifted.

_On the first day of Christmas..._

 

**End.**


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